On the Lady Chapel in Chester Cathedral

by George Becher Blomfield

The stone under which the Abbot was buried still remains,—not of alabaster, but Purbeck marble,—and bears the traces of a very rich brass, which must have nearly covered the whole stone. About thirty years ago this stone was removed, and the Abbot’s coffin was found under it, in a tolerably perfect state. His body was enveloped in folds of cerecloth; and an illegible writing on parchment lay upon this breast. His gold ring of office, containing a large sapphire, was on the forefinger of his right hand. This was not interred again with the rest of the contents of the coffin, but is now preserved amongst the treasures of the Chapter.

I may observe that, at the period of the Reformation, when the worship of the Virgin was repudiated by the Church of England, it seems to have been an object with the Reformers to desecrate all the Lady Chapels, with a view to extinguish the yet lingering prejudice in favour of the places where the interest and intercession of the Blessed Virgin had been sought for during so many centuries. They were, for the most part, converted to some secular uses, and employed as schools, or vestries, or consistorial courts. To this latter use the Lady Chapel of our Cathedral was appropriated; and there it was that Bishop Cotes, in the reign of Queen Mary, (A.D. 1555) held the trial of George Marsh for heresy, and condemned him to be burned at the stake,—a sentence which was shortly afterwards carried into execution at Boughton on April 24, 1555. [13a]

We know not how soon after this the Consistory Court was removed from the Lady Chapel to its present position in the south-western tower, but probably at the period of the Restoration. From that date the Chapel has been restored to more befitting uses, and the early Morning Prayers, or Matins, have been always read there.

In Webb’s Itinerary, [13b] speaking of the Lady Chapel as it appeared in his day (A.D. 1640), he says that it was “adorned with a fair window to the east, of very curious workmanship in glass, where hath been the story of the Blessed Virgin, her descent from the loins of Jesse, in the line of David; though now, through injury of time and weather, the same story is much blemished.”

Forty years after that, the mischief which had been commenced “by time and weather,” was completed by a tumultuous mob of the citizens of Chester, instigated, as it was supposed, by James Duke of Monmouth, who was at that time in Chester, courting popularity. They broke into the Cathedral, and amongst other outrages committed upon the contents of the sacred building, wholly destroyed the painted glass of the east window of the Lady Chapel. It has been the work of the citizens in a later age, and under a better feeling, to repair the injury done by their forefathers, and once more adorn the east window with “very curious workmanship in glass,”—an example which has been followed by many private individuals, so that we have now all the windows of the Chapel so decorated, at a cost of not less than £1,500.

Permit me to say a few words in conclusion, as to the purpose and character of the works which are now going on in this Chapel. I shall not venture to name the person by whose suggestion they were entered upon, and at whose cost the decorative part is to be executed, as it is her desire to be kept in the back ground, and to let all be done to the glory of God. But I may state that the object is to restore the interior of the Chapel to the same state in which we may believe it to have been left by its first builders. From a close and careful examination of the bosses, ribs, window mouldings, and capitals, it is apparent that they had received the decorative colouring usual in buildings of that date; and the remains of it, found under accumulated coats of whitewash, were sufficient to indicate precisely the several tones of colour, so as to enable the artist who examined them to restore exactly the original design. Mr. Octavius Hudson, who has made this branch of ancient art his special study, and has shewn his skill and knowledge of the subject in his admirable chromatic works at Salisbury, has had the restoration of this Chapel entrusted to his care.

I believe that there are some persons who look with no little suspicion upon these attempts to revive the mediæval character of our sacred buildings; thinking it to be symptomatic of Romanizing tendencies; or, at least, likely to foster them; and apprehending that, if we begin by introducing mediæval ornament, we may perhaps end by bringing in mediæval ceremonies.

It is quite true that whitewash has long been the symbol of true Protestantism. Successive coats of it have been laid over the ancient mural decorations of our Churches, in order, as it were, to perpetuate the abhorrence of Popish superstition by washing out the stain of it from the very walls. Everything that would serve to please the eye, and indulge the sentiment; everything that even tended to express a desire to glorify the House of God, and to impress the worshippers in it with reverential feelings, has been excluded, as if it were idolatrous. We have all been educated in an atmosphere of ecclesiastical whitewash. People’s eyes have been so habituated to it, as the one established Church pigment, that they are with difficulty brought to think anything else orthodox or appropriate.

But, as to the principle of colouring, as a means of giving a pleasing and reverent character to the interior of our Churches, surely we need not confound the idea of simplicity in the worship of God, with that of plainness in the building. To the former we are happily restricted, as well by our established Ritual, as by our common sense of what is true and edifying. To the latter we are not limited by any rule, legal or Scriptural. Admitting that when we introduce fanciful varieties of costume, and gesture, and embellishment into the offices of Divine worship, we are lowering the spirit and the meaning of it, it by no means follows that the same objection applies to the rich and chromatic ornamentation of the edifice itself. In that we are obviously doing honour to Him whose name it bears, and shewing a desire to give Him the best we have. “The King’s daughter is all glorious within,” may be no less applicable, though in a secondary sense, to the material than to the spiritual Church of Christ. All natural products are to be employed “to beautify the place of my sanctuary,” under the Christian dispensation no less than under the Jewish; “and I will make the place of my feet glorious,” (Isaiah lx. 13). We do not in these days question the propriety of reviving the highly elaborate ecclesiastical architecture of the middle ages, in order to give a rich and grand effect to our Houses of God. I do not see the difference between doing that, and enriching them with appropriate colouring, to relieve the monotony of effect. One is as much calculated as the other to give a richer and more impressive tone to what presents itself to the senses of the worshipper. There is no more symbolism in one than in the other; no more symptom of a return to mediæval superstition.